


Safe and Sound

by Lapin



Series: Isle of Skye [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Selkies, Sort Of, background Fili/Ori - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapin/pseuds/Lapin
Summary: Kíli has never believed in any stories until he comes to the Isle of Skye, where every story seems to be just on the cusp of being real.





	Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pangur_pangur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pangur_pangur/gifts).



> For my dearest friend

“It's fucking cold.” 

Fíli doesn't even look up at him, the bastard, just keeps smoking and looking out at the water. Like the water is so interesting. The water is cold. The whole island is cold. 

“It's not that cold,” Fíli replies, exhaling smoke. “And you're the one who wanted to come.”

Kíli kicks at him, getting his ankle. “Only because you kept hinting.” 

Fíli grins. “You still volunteered. And mums thought it would be good for you.” 

That's true enough. When they'd found out Kíli might actually spend his summer hols _working_ , they'd all but packed his bags for him. As though he never does anything productive. It was a bit disheartening, really. He's had jobs before. Sort of. Well, mostly working for his uncles, or other relatives, but it wasn't like it hadn't been work. 

“It's still cold.” 

“Ori's grateful,” Fíli says.

“Yeah, I don't need to hear that.” He's happy Ori's weird old cottage has solid walls, is all. 

Besides the weather, the place is odd all on its own. There's something eerie about the island, something that makes Kíli feel both very alone, and very much not, all at the same time. He's gone for a few walks during the day, trying to get a feel for the place, but he can't quite seem to. Even when he's helping Fíli and Ori with the cottage, there's something a bit off about everything. 

Maybe it's just the isolation, he thinks. “How does he stand staying out here by himself?” 

“Used to it, I guess,” Fíli replies. “Come on, it's getting dark, and Ori wants to go somewhere to eat tonight.” 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You're _invited_ , idiot,” Fíli snaps. 

Kíli makes a face at him, but follows him inside. They don't use the door they're sitting in front of, the old one made of dark wood that faces the water. Ori says it never opens right, so it stays shut. It's another odd thing about Ori's house. He wonders how long it's been since anyone tried to open the door. 

They navigate their way through the garden that wraps around half the house, finding the stone slates in the green overgrowth. The door to the kitchen is red, freshly painted by them just a week ago, with a new silver door handle too, that turns without the creak that had been there when they first arrived. Inside, Ori is using some kind of stick to hang bundles of herbs on hooks in the old, exposed rafters. 

“Need help?” Fíli asks.

“No, just this last one.”

The kitchen smells funny, and it makes Kíli's nose itch. “Is there anywhere in town that doesn't serve fish?” he asks, trying not to breathe too deeply. “I'm tired of it.”

They walk to the village. There's no car at Ori's house, and Fíli's the only one amongst the three of them with a license anyway. Kíli's mums said he had to wait until the summer was over, see if he could prove himself responsible. It irritated him, because Fíli hadn't had that restriction. But when it came to him, everything always needed to be _discussed_ , needed to be _thought over_ , and it usually needed second and third opinions from his uncles and cousins. 

Ahead, he sees Ori grab Fíli's hand, and the pair of them play around a bit, while Kíli smokes and wishes they had a car. It's not a far walk, he just doesn't like that they'll be coming back in the dark, and his arm is hurting him. The damp on the island isn't doing any wonders for the old rugby injury.

There's something about this place that makes him think this is the sort of road where a will-o'-the-wisp might pop up, lead them off somewhere they can never come back from, if they walk it alone in the dark. 

Once they're walking on the pavement along the shops, he feels a bit more comfortable. There are tourists out and about with the locals, and everyone is mostly in a good mood around them. Ori doesn't take them into any of the restaurants they pass though. They keep walking until they find a narrow side street, and from there they go down another, and then up a flight of brick stairs.

“The Elk and Crown,” Kíli reads aloud, when they find the restaurant.

Inside is dark. There are candles on the tables, and they pass under a chandelier made of antlers, but they don't do much to light the way as a waiter seats them in one of the booths. 

The glass the candle is in has an elk drawn on it in silver, reminding Kíli of a Jägermeister bottle. The wax inside starts to run, so he puts it down, but keeps playing with the flame, sliding his hand back and forth over it. 

“Dori handles the wine for this place,” Ori says. “He usually brings me some cake when he's been here for work. And the wine is good, of course.”

“Is there beer?” Kíli doesn't like wine, never has. 

There's beer. 

Kíli hardly notices it though, because he's still watching the woman who served it, as she walks to the next table.

“Kíli, quit being creepy,” Fíli warns. “Girls don't like creepy.” 

“Because you're the great expert on _girls_ ,” Kíli scoffs. “Hey, Ori, who's that redhead? The server?” 

Ori frowns, looking at his wine. “That's Tauriel.” He takes a sip of the wine, and Kíli grimaces at just the thought of the taste. “She just started living here all year. Used to be just hols.” 

“Why's she doing that?” 

“I don't know. She went to boarding school, and she's a few years older. I don't know her very well.” 

When she comes back, Kíli tries to think of something to say, but he can't think of anything that doesn't sound stupid. She doesn't say anything either, but he thinks he catches her looking at him too, once or twice. She's gone before they are, in any case. 

They walk back to the house, even though Kíli volunteers to pay for a taxi. “It's a nice night,” Ori says, and Fíli being the soppy idiot he is, agrees with him. So they walk. It's not so bad, with some beer in him, but he still doesn't like it. No one else lives on the road that goes to Ori's house, the little cottage an outlier, so all around them is just empty blackness and the sound of the ocean. 

Kíli's careful to keep up with them, irrationally nervous. He feels like if he lets them out of his sight, they'll disappear, and he'll be alone in the darkness. He never feels this way at home, surrounded by the shops and the neighbours and the noise, but here it's so quiet, so alone, some part of him deep down is believing every faerie story he ever heard when he was little. 

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and he hurries forward, grabbing Fíli's arm. For just a moment, he thinks the person in front of him won't be his brother, but someone else. Some _thing_ else. 

But it's just Fíli, his brother looking back at him, concerned. “What's wrong?” he asks, turning his head to where Kíli is looking. “Oh, that girl.”

It doesn't make sense for a second, until Kíli looks for himself properly, and sees the woman from the restaurant. She's walking down a path through the grass. Her light-coloured hoodie is what caught his attention, and he feels like an idiot. “Where's she going?” Kíli asks, his heartbeat slowing again.

“You can't see it too well from here, not when the lights are out,” Ori explains, pointing up into the trees. “But there's a great big house up there. Greenwood.” 

She disappears into the trees, and in the dark, Kíli only catches a few flashes of her hoodie before she's gone. “What?” he asks, confused.

“That's the house's name. Greenwood,” Ori clarifies. “It's very old.”

“Why is it called Greenwood?” 

Fíli looks at him. “You think maybe it's because of the trees, genius?” 

“Shut it,” Kíli replies.

“It's not,” Ori says at the same time. “It's not called that because of the trees. The trees were planted after the house was built. I told you, it's a very old house. No, it's called that because of how it was built. See, it used to be all stone, and it was called something else then, but then there was a fire. It was ages ago. Instead of just tearing it all down, the family just built on top of the ruined bits. They wouldn't even wait long enough for the wood to age properly, I guess. They used new trees. Green wood? So everyone started calling it that.” 

Kíli makes a face at Fíli, and gets an eye roll back. 

The cottage isn't Kíli's favourite place, but it's better than being outside, so he takes what he gets. 

Fíli and Ori don't stay up long after they get back to the cottage, unfortunately, and Kíli is left downstairs on his own, with just the sound of the ocean and the silence. He sets up his laptop instead of listening to it, playing DVDs he brought to the island with him. He hardly watches any of them, just thankful for the noise that distracts him and lets him doze. 

He can't fall asleep fully though, his mind refusing. 

When the sun comes up, he puts on a clean shirt and washes his face in the downstairs bathroom, then goes outside for a walk in the early morning light, rubbing his knuckles over his morning beard, wondering if he can get away with trying to grow it out while they're here. Fíli hasn't been shaving either. 

Outside, in the sunshine, he can breathe easier than he has all night. He smokes a cigarette while he walks, heading towards the trees instead of the water. The grass is tall, wild-flowers dotting it in patches, the morning dew dampening his trackies. 

He sees her a bit beforehand, and wonders who in the world is lying in a field in the morning. She hears him coming, and sits up on her elbows, her hair down now. In the light, he can see how red her hair really is. And she has freckles. 

“Hey,” he says, taking a drag out of habit. 

“Good morning,” she replies. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, curious. 

“I couldn't sleep,” she answers. “What are you doing?” 

“Me either,” he says, shrugging. 

She's lying on a blanket, a green tartan one that makes her hair look even redder, and she's dressed differently than the night before. He supposes that was her work outfit, so that makes sense. This morning, she's wearing jeans and a white tee shirt that hangs on her. It looks like it's a boy's shirt, and he guesses maybe it's her boyfriend's, with a bit of disappointment. 

“You're one of the boys staying at the Riesz house,” she says, like an accusation. “But you're not his boyfriend. That's the blond one, right?”

“Right,” he replies. “I'm the boyfriend's brother. Do you know Ori?”

“No. I've met his brother though.” She stands up, and he sees she's taller than him by a little. “You were in the restaurant last night. I remember you.” 

“I remember you, too,” he says, and he must say it right, because she smiles in a soft, genuine sort of way, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “Ori said he thought your name was Tauriel? I'm Kíli.” 

“It is.” She makes a face, then says, “My name, I mean. My name is Tauriel.” 

He wants to tell her he'll be here all summer, but he stops himself. He wants to stop staring at her too, but he's not quite managing that part. He has no idea what it is about her, why he can't look away. “So you live up there?” He nods towards the trees. In the daylight, he can just make out the edge of a building. Greenwood, like Ori called it. 

“Yes,” she says, looking back behind her. “With my godfather.” Kíli laughs; he doesn't mean too, it just happens, and she frowns. “What's funny?” 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just that word. It always makes me think of the films, you know? My lot don't really do that whole thing.” The explanation sounds worse, so he changes the subject. “He owns that restaurant then?” 

“Yes. I work there.” Her face gets a bit red, and she says, “Well, obviously, I work there. You saw me.” 

He decides to try. Can't hurt. “Are you working there tonight?” 

“No.”

“Any other places you like to go around here?” 

She crosses her arms over her chest, smiling bigger now, her whole face lit up, and says, “There's a few.” 

_Ethereal_ , he remembers, from some book he read for school once. That's why he can't look away. She's looking at him too though, so maybe it's alright. 

“Tauriel.”

They both turn, and the light goes out of her face. There's a blond man about their age coming out of the trees. When he sees Kíli, he looks down his nose at him, the corner of his mouth turning down. “Who are you?” he asks. “This is private property.” 

“Didn't know, sorry,” Kíli says, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Was just walking.”

“Then turn around and walk the other way, before I ring the police,” he says. “Tauriel, come on. You're going to miss breakfast.” 

He's enough of a git Kíli thinks he really will do it, so he turns to leave, but he can't resist saying, “Later, then?” as he leaves. He hears her laugh, and the other bloke questioning her as they walk in the other direction. 

Kíli puts out his cigarette in the wet grass, just to really be an arse.

Alone again, and without something to do with his hands, he looks around, trying to find the path he made through the grass to get this far, but it's disappeared. He can see Ori's house just fine, even if it is sort of small in the distance, but it seems to take forever to get back through the grass. He keeps stepping in slick places, the grass making nets in front of his ankles, and the soft dirt catching at his shoes and threatening to keep them. 

He had completely forgotten how creepy the island was when he was with her, but now he's reminded, and when he finally reaches the red door, he's tempted to lock it behind him. The other two still aren't up, or if they are, they haven't come downstairs yet, and while he knows they're here, he'd feel better if they'd just get up and come down.

He starts to make tea, but then he goes back and locks the door. He's embarrassed at how much better it makes him feel, even if it's stupid. 

The tea doesn't do much for him, and he decides to kip on the sofa. His laptop has turned itself off, but he thinks he's alright to sleep with the daylight coming in, even if the living room is sort of west-facing, and dark. The heavy door that faces the ocean is too big for the little room, and even in the afternoon, the room is too dark. What light gets through touches the edges of the furniture though, and it's enough to not feel like the shadows are watching him. 

He thinks about her as he falls asleep, thinks about the way she smiled, and he imagines the conversation going on longer, imagines seeing her again and where it might happen. Somewhere in the village, maybe, in one of the shops. She'd be surprised to see him, but happy. She'd talk to him. 

He falls asleep, his arm thrown over his eyes, and doesn't wake up until hours later, when Fíli shakes him and asks if he's ill. “It's lunchtime,” he says to Kíli. “Even you don't lie around this long.” 

“Bad night,” he explains. 

When lunch is on the table, he asks Ori about Greenwood, and the grassy field. 

“I would have warned you not to go there,” Ori says. “It's not safe, for one. The grass hides the holes and ditches and the mud. People get hurt trying to cross it. And the owner is a bit funny about it. It doesn't all belong to him, you see, but tourists don't mind the lines, and they'll come right up to his door. He doesn't like that.” There are flowers on the table from the garden now, stuffed in a blue vase, and Ori picks at one with pink petals, taking off a petal that's gone brown at the edge. “Dori says he used to be more friendly, before what happened.” 

Fíli and Kíli look at one another, and Fíli says, “Ori, we don't live here.” 

“I know,” he says, a bit waspish. “I was trying to remember the details. His wife died, you see, about ten years ago. She was in the Army, I think.” He pulls another petal off the flower. “You saw his son, if he was young. Legolas. He's not very nice.” 

Kíli stabs at his salad, getting a cherry tomato on the end of his fork and popping the skin. “Funny, I got the same impression.” 

“I don't know him very well. He went to boarding school.” Again, Ori frowns. “We would see each other at the restaurant, when Dori took me during the hols, but he's older than me. And he doesn't really like anybody.” 

The house phone, an old one hooked up into the actual wall in Ori's living room, rings, loud enough Kíli bets it can be heard outside. Ori gets up and goes to answer it, the damn thing still ringing in Kíli's ears after 

Fíli takes Ori's empty plate, and puts their dishes in the sink. “Hey, Ori and me are going out for a walk. We'll be back in a few hours.” 

“Why?” 

“Why are we going for a walk? Because oddly enough, I want to be alone with my boyfriend. Without my little brother.” He sits beside Kíli, taking Ori's old seat. The kitchen still smells funny, Kíli thinks. He wonders if Fíli thinks so too. “What's with you? You seem kind of mental here lately.”

“I don't know.” He really doesn't. He can't explain it. “It's this place.” 

“What's wrong with it?” 

“I don't know. Do you like it here?”

Fíli plays with the flowers now, turning a long, spindly blue one. “Ori is here. And this is his home. But it did take awhile to get used to this place. Seems a bit different from everywhere else, doesn't it? I still don't like being around the seals too long.” He shakes his head, like it's all ridiculous. “But hey, maybe that girl actually likes your ugly face.”

“Arse.” 

He still doesn't feel quite right when they leave. Part of it might just be that he's in Ori's house without Ori. That's awkward enough on its own. 

He has a look around the house, trying to make everything more familiar. It's a funny sort of house, the kind that actually feels old, like it remembers the people from before. Maybe it's reassuring to Ori and his brothers, since it's their family hanging about, but Kíli feels like an intruder. Then again, Ori said his grandparents bought the place. Maybe they'd felt the same way. 

There's little faded pencil lines along the frame of the doorway between the living room and the room Ori said was Dori's office. When Kíli squints, he can make out Ori's name, and he guesses Ori's other brother's, along with years. They had one at their own house, but they'd stopped when Kíli had finally gotten taller than Fíli. 

Someone knocks on the kitchen door, and he jumps. 

They knock again. 

It's Tauriel, and he feels a swoop in his stomach. She's got her hair in a braid now, and a different shirt on, one cut just low enough he sees a hint of cleavage. 

“Hello,” she says, when he opens the door. 

“Hello, again,” he returns. “Couldn't stay away, could you? I have that effect.” He braces himself in the door frame, the wood so old, the grain hardly digs in at all. He likes the way she smiles down at him, like she's almost surprised she's doing it, but he remembers the blond before he gets ahead of himself. “Your boyfriend with you?” He keeps his tone light. If she's got a boyfriend, he can't blame the other bloke. 

“Boyfriend?” Her smile changes, and then she laughs. “Legolas?” 

“Not your boyfriend?”

“No,” she replies firmly, shaking her head. 

He doesn't know what to say for a moment, because he thinks she might like him, and he knows he likes her.

She breaks the silence, holding out something. “I found this in the grass. Is it yours?” It's the hamsa his mothers had given him for his eighteenth birthday, and he stands up straight, one of his hands going to his neck. He hadn't even felt the chain slip off, and he's not sure how. He's worn it everyday since they gave it to him, liking the reassuring feel of it. 

“It's mine,” he says, and before he can help himself, he adds, “You shouldn't have picked it up. It wards off the Evil Eye. If a goy picks it up, the Evil Eye turns on them.” 

Her face is well worth it as he takes it out of her open hand, but she only buys it for a moment. He never was very good at keeping a straight face. “You're lying,” she says, still almost a question. 

“Yeah,” he admits, checking the clasp. It looks fine, and he puts it back around his neck, still wondering how it fell off. “It really does ward off the Evil Eye. My mothers gave it to me, to keep me safe. For some reason, they think I need extra help.” He huffs. “Bloke jumps off one roof into a pool, and suddenly, everyone thinks he's reckless.” That wasn't the exact wording they'd used, but it had been the gist. And he hadn't even broken anything that time. 

“You...you didn't really do that?” She looks like she's not sure whether to believe him or not. 

“In April,” he says, grinning. “See, my cousin Gimli? His neighbour has a pool. And Gimli's roof goes into their back garden.” A funny little fact that had made it more difficult to get in and out of Gimli's window than it had to be, but Gimli's house was still by the far the best option, because his mum worked nights, and his dad took his hearing aids out to sleep, which meant as long as they didn't use the door and set off the lights, they were golden. “Gimli said I couldn't make it.”

A rain drop lands on her shirt, then another.

“Do you want to come in?” 

“Am I...allowed?” 

Kíli steps back from the door, scratching at his hairline, and he's reminded his hair is still up. Eh. Not his best look, but she seems to like him anyway. “Yeah, Ori's nice.” 

Besides, the rain always unsettles him even more here. It comes down like a curtain, making the cottage feel even more alone, especially since he's alone in it. 

“That's not...” She steps inside, and it's not quite dark enough in the kitchen he can't see how red she's turning. “Is Ori here?” 

“Nah. He and my brother went off to be romantic, thankfully far away from me.” He gestures towards the table. “You can sit. Do you like tea? Ori has loads of tea. Or...” He opens the shiny new fridge, and pulls out a bottle. “Wine?”

She's one of those people who gets flushed when she's been drinking, but so does he, so it's pretty even by the time they're both working on the last glasses of the bottle. “So are they really just going to stay out there in this?” she asks, looking out at the rain. 

Kíli groans. “Don't ever make me think of what my brother is doing with his boyfriend. _Ever_. Bad enough I got dragged up to this creepy place because of him, I don't want to...” He makes a face because he can't think of words that properly express it. 

“I don't like it here either, sometimes,” she says, tracing the rim of her empty glass.

“Why not?” 

She empties her glass, looking out the kitchen window. The lights haven't flickered yet, and Kíli hopes they stay on. “Sorry,” she says. “I was about to say something awkward.” 

He probably shouldn't press, but he does anyway. “What?” 

Her wine glass is empty, and she looks at it for awhile before she laughs and says, “I was born in Ireland, you see. My father was Irish. My mother was from here though. Her and my uncle Thranduil were cousins.” Kíli thinks he gets an idea of where this is going, of why she would be sent here to live with her godfather. “It was a car crash, when I was eleven. Uncle Thranduil came to get me right away, and brought me back here. I'm used to it now, but back then I hated it here. We lived in Dublin, and here, people are outnumbered by the seals.” 

“The seals are sort of creepy too,” Kíli says, and again she laughs. “No, see, one of uncles told me all these stories about selkies and when I was little, I read this book where the Selkie King would come on land as a handsome bloke and steal away blonde girls -”

“And his golden ceiling was really the drowned girls, and their golden hair?” she finishes for him, and he leans forward on his elbows, excited to find anyone else who read the bloody book. “ _A Stranger Came Ashore_?”

“Yeah, that was it.” 

“I read it after I first came here,” she says, shaking her head, a little wide-eyed. “I didn't sleep for a week, I swear.”

“You've got red hair though,” he replies.

“No, I kept thinking he would come take Legolas from me,” she clarifies. “He was my only friend. And he would always go down to see them on the shore. It was ridiculous, but I kept thinking one day they'd take him down into the water.” 

Legolas was sort of good looking, if Kíli thinks about it, and he did have really light hair. “I'd of been scared of him taking Fíli, I guess.” Even safe in his own house, the book had scared him. Here, something ridiculous in him worries about how long Fíli has been gone. “Ori told me his mum used to say they were selkies.” A stupid, _stupid_ thought to be having, but it's this _place_. “Think he's sneaked off to steal Fíli off to some undersea kingdom?”

He doesn't believe it, not really. He's not twelve anymore. But he wants to see his brother suddenly, and he gets his mobile out, not caring if he looks rude, and asks Fíli where they are. 

Outside, the sky has gotten even darker, and the wind suddenly rushes against the cottage, hard enough it rattles the windows. His mobile's signal is gone, just like that, and the lights flicker as well. 

“The lights are going to go out, it gets much worse,” Tauriel says. She checks her own mobile, and her signal must be gone too. “Ori has lived here his whole life. He would have seen the storm blowing up and found them somewhere safe.” 

“I don't like the dark,” Kíli admits. “Not when I can't see the sky.” He doesn't admit the rest, not just yet. He's not that drunk. And he doesn't want her to know it, anyway, not really. “Clouds make me feel closed-in.”

She doesn't hesitate. “Are you claustrophobic too?” 

He coughs, some phantom piece of nothing stuck in his throat. “You are?” 

“Uncle Thranduil sent me to some really good doctors, and my school had a therapist, but I've never been able to shake it. It's why you found me sleeping outside.” She laughs at herself, but it's not really laughing. “I love being outside at night, seeing the stars. I studied astronomy, when I was at school.” 

“That's what I'm studying,” Kíli says, excited. “So you have your degree?” 

She shakes her head. “No. I'm only partway done.” She seems to steel herself. “I needed a break. I needed to come home for a little while. And my family needed me.” 

He doesn't ask because he doesn't think he should. If she wants to tell him, she will. Instead, he asks, “You ever get angry that Pluto's moon isn't called Persephone?”

“More angry it's not called Proserpina,” she says, and he grins. “Do you ever find it funny that Venus' planet is a forge?” 

“She's hospitable to her husband,” Kíli waves it off, and she laughs. Still though, he can feel it under his skin, the crawling need to breathe in the open air, and at the same, the outside here is so wrong and unfamiliar. “You want to go outside?” 

“It's getting nasty out there,” she says hitching her chin at the kitchen door, where the rain is smacking against hard enough she has to raise her voice. 

Kíli looks over his shoulder, into the dark sitting room. “The front door is facing the other way,” he says. “And it's got shelter.” A big stone roof, sticking out from the middle of the house, held up by old columns, the design weathered away, but shelter, nonetheless, and the storm is coming from the other way. “Come on.” 

She gets up and follows, after he's halfway to the door, her arms crossed, looking around. “Are you sure?” She looks like she expects someone else to pop up and tell her to leave. 

“It'll be fine,” he assures her, but it's bravado, more than anything else, because he hesitates at the actual door. The storm is loud, even in this part of the house, but inside, it feels like it's trying to get them. He knows if he opens the door, lets some light and sound into this damn dark room, this weird, creepy house, he'll feel better, but he still hesitates. “Ori says the door sticks really bad.” 

Tauriel comes up beside him at last, and shrugs. “I play rugby, at school, for the girls' side.”

“Me too.” She eyes him, smirking, and he shrugs. “Not for the girls' side. But if you wanted to share a changing room, I wouldn't mind.” 

“You need help braiding your hair?” she asks lightly, and he grins up at her. 

They both put their shoulders into it when the damn thing won't give, and damn, but Ori wasn't bloody fucking joking. It takes both of them a minute more than it should, but finally, _finally_ , there's give, and then it swings open like it was never any trouble at all. They almost fall through it, but they catch at one another, and manage to find their feet.

The storm is still going strong, but out here, it's not a siege. Kíli takes in his first full breath since he got to this bloody place, and he thinks maybe Tauriel is too, or at least right where he is in this moment. He lets go of her, and sits down on the stone porch, breathing, and watching the storm roar around them, the pair of them safe from it for the most part. He looks over his shoulder, and the sitting room is a different place. There's fresh air and good light in it now, the heavy shadows chased out. 

It's just a sitting room. 

She drops beside him, sitting back on her hands. 

The rain is so damn loud, the wind even louder, and he looks out at the sea, remembers that damn book. 

“He pretended he was a member of a shipwreck,” Tauriel says. “Do you remember? The selkie king? He pretended he was a member of a shipwreck. Fooled everyone but the grandfather.” She huffs out, and settles onto her back. Kíli drops down beside her, closing his eyes. 

He remembers. “Don't think he's coming for either of us. And Fíli's too much of a fucking idiot over Ori to get taken in.” He doesn't mind, not exactly. It is a bit unsettling, how Fíli is so gone on Ori, and maybe that's been bothering Kíli more than he liked to let on, ever since the first time Fíli went to this island, chasing after Ori.

He opens his eyes and looks at Tauriel, and thinks maybe he sort of gets it now.

He sits back up and so does she. 

When he cups the back of her head and brings her a bit closer, she asks, between them, “What do you think you're doing?”

“You know,” he teases, and it's her that actually ducks down, and kisses him.

“I do,” she says, when they break apart. She huffs and then pins him down, not that he minds. “I'm not wrong, right? This is real?”

“Yeah,” he answers, pulling her back down with a hand on her hair, so they can kiss again.


End file.
